Page 28 of The Love Potion
“That will never happen if Lady Zoe becomes your wife. Zoe’s more likely to join her in this barn of experimentation in the hopes of finding a new poultice for an aging horse.”
He turned to regard her, his face in enough shadow that she could not read his expression. “I have no intention of marrying Zoe.”
That was not what Zoe’s parents were thinking. They’d encouraged the duke to remain close in the hopes that an offer would come by the end of the Season. After all, the two would make a nice match in title and fortune. And many society couples had a large age difference.
Kynthea didn’t want to ask the obvious question. She knew the answer would be like a stab to her heart. And that was exactly why she asked. It would do no good for her to get stars in her eyes where he was concerned. “Do you have any ladies in mind? You’ve been to several balls this week alone.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me. Most nights I escort my mother to every ball, musicale, or whatever other function where young misses might gather. She has debutantes lined up just to curtsey at me and flutter their fans.”
“Have none stood out?”
“None.” His gaze seemed heavy upon her, and she shifted awkwardly where she stood touching the tree trunk.
“Surely someone has caught your attention, if only for a moment. That is enough to further your acquaintance.”
He smiled, his white teeth cutting through the shadows. “Only one lady has impressed me with her calm, her grace, and even her wit during a difficult time.”
She winced. Sheknewhe had met someone. He was an eligible duke. Every lady in the land would act their best before him. “Is she your age? Does she know?”
“Yes and no. But I’m about to tell her.”
She turned to face him, forcing herself to smile. “Then someone is about to be very happy.”
He grinned. “I hope so.” Then he cupped her cheek and kissed her.
She should have seen it coming. She should have known what he was about. Why else would a man follow a woman into the shadows beneath an oak tree except to take liberties? And damn her traitorous heart, she wanted him to. She’d dreamed of just this thing. When everyone said nasty things about her, he’d been the one to stop their gossip. He’d been the one to defend her honor.
And now he was moving his lips across hers, plunging his tongue between her teeth, and supporting her head as he did what he willed with her mouth. Her breath caught, but her body responded as if she had been kissed like this a thousand times before. She hadn’t. Indeed, no one had ever enveloped her so completely and yet been gentle against her mouth.
Their tongues dueled. Slow at first, but then with growing urgency. Soon she was clutching him, pressing against him, wanting to feel every moment of his attention. She threw herself into the madness of it all. Until he wrenched himself back.
Her heart was pounding, and her breath was short. She gulped air for a moment, and then much too quickly realized what she had done. She had welcomed his advances. More than that, she had thrown herself against him just as the biddies had accused. A brazen hussy. That was what they’d said, and now…
She pressed a hand to her wet mouth and fell back against the tree. What had she done? Why had he defended her this last week just to make improper advances now? And why, why, why had she allowed it?
“Miss Petrelli?” he said, his voice low. “Kynthea—”
She held up her hand to stop him from talking. She needed to think, to regain control of her body and mind. Had anyone seen?Did she look like a woman who had just been ravished? She certainly felt like one. Or at least, she felt like she wanted to be.
“Kynthea, what are you thinking?”
“What game are you playing?” she rasped. “Why would you defend me all week just to do this?”
He touched her cheek, but she flinched back. “I thought it was obvious. You are the woman who has caught my eye. You are—”
“Stop!” she hissed. “Stop!”
God, how this hurt! She’d been dreaming of him loving her. She’d spent her nights pretending that they were intimate within the bounds of marriage. To have his attention now, knowing that he only wanted a mistress, destroyed not only her dreams, but the idea that there were honorable men in the world. And not just a good man, but a duke. One who had restored her faith in the aristocracy and England.
What he had just said shredded that ideal. To know that he was just another licentious lord hurt far deeper than the discovery that her hero was a man after all. To know that she had been a willing participant hurt even more. She thought she had more self-control than that.
“What was your plan, Your Grace?” she asked. “Do you take me against the oak tree? Do we meet up tonight after the ball is over?” Her throat constricted. Good God, she wanted to. Part of her was praying he’d ask her to come to him tonight. What delights could he bring her?
“That was not my plan.” His voice was cold. His body stiffened and pulled back from her. “Kynthea, I did not intend any of that.”
“Really?” she taunted. Her words came out sharp because she hurt. Her hero thought of her as a lightskirt. “Did you trip and fall upon my lips?”
She hadn’t thought he could stand up straighter, but he reared back far enough to look down at her. “You accepted my kiss. You grabbed my shoulders and—”
